It was death himself br at my swords tip br shocked at his predicament br unaccustomed as he was br to insouciance br and unfamiliar he was br with his own impending ending. br br How do you tell Death that br his own death comes? br br He said. br 'How am I to meet br alls end this way br when I am the very symbol br of the terminus; br the end for all and the other many? ' br br 'Tell me how I am come to this end; br the irony of my own dead death br now near? ' br br 'Death must die' I said br as life itself begins' br br 'Its not so mysterious Death br to understand. br You are not the end but br my own beginning br and I am life's insistence at the beginning; br that coming to the fore br youth moving to sure br and steady borning. br br 'That is the cycle of all things, ' br I said. br 'You die death; br not a sad departing br but my own new beginning. br br 'How sad' Death said br 'I understand your glib reckoning br but my death to me is personal br and while the Great Cycle br to you is mesmerizing br for me it is my fully sensed ending. br br Endings are personal and while br loves I've known br have found new loves br it has not br and did not br obliterate br old love's ending. br And that is I. br br Old loves die br and their death br is not erased br by new love's br beginning; br they fade br away amid the sad br sighings br we hear at night br when alone br in our beds br br in the dark br crying.